


Interlude

by madsthenerdygirl



Series: Merlin Memory Month '18 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, I don't even know guys, M/M, i just, this is vaguely regency, throws pile of crap at you and runs away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: Interlude, n: an intervening period of time between two stages.Or, in other words, the moments after the duel and before the healing.





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> For three of the Merlin Memory Month round five prompts, "it's not victory I seek, it is peace," agonized, and historical or future AU.

He’s burning. He’s burning, he’s burning up, and he can’t—

“Hold still. Arthur. Arthur I need you to hold still, please.”

“This is what happens when you engage in your bloody duels—”

“Thank you Gwen, your comments are immeasurably helpful right now—”

That voice. He knows that voice. He tries to reach for it but his body isn’t cooperating because he’s in such pain, such pain…

“Merlin,” he manages to croak out. He needs him, he needs Merlin, Merlin will make it all better…

“I’m here.” And oh, Merlin’s hand is so cool against his burning forehead. “I’m right here, Arthur, I promise.”

He takes Arthur’s sweaty, trembling hand in his. Arthur squeezes as tightly as he can. He’d worry about hurting anyone else, but he never worries with Merlin. Merlin meets whatever Arthur can throw at him and he gives it right back in equal measure.

“It hurts,” he admits. He can feel himself crying and he hates that, he hates crying, even in front of Merlin who has seen him at his best and at his worst and at every point in between. But he can’t not cry, not when his entire body is burning and it won’t stop.

“I know,” Merlin says, and Merlin is crying too. He’s holding onto Arthur’s hand as though he thinks he’ll slip away. “I know, you idiot, you complete _clotpole_ , why did you throw the duel like that?”

The duel? Arthur tries to think. Hands are holding him down and he hears the voice of someone much older, a man, say, “All right,” and then he’s burning even more right in his chest right in his lungs right in the heart of him right, right, right—

Somebody is pleading to make it stop. Just make it stop, God, Merlin, Merlin make it stop, please, and Merlin is crying and squeezing his hand so tight and says, “I know, Arthur, I know, we’re making it stop, it’ll stop soon,” and Arthur realizes that he’s the one who’s pleading.

The burning is still all through him, agonizing, but it’s no longer concentrated in that one part. It no longer feels like someone is digging into his chest with a knife.

“We should have known,” someone, a woman, is saying, her voice filled with anger and tears. “Mordred has no honor. Of course he would aim to kill.”

“Shh, love…” The voice is that of a man, trying to soothe.

“You were his second, Lance! You should have warned him! You should have—”

Gwen, the name floats out to him from the haze of pain. Guinevere, his betrothed, before she had fallen for Lancelot, a servant, and had broken their engagement to marry him instead despite his lower station. Lancelot was his second in the duel that morning, the duel against Mordred…

Of course he threw the duel, he thinks. He never wanted to kill Mordred.

“Merlin,” he croaks. Merlin, his valet, ever steadfast, never once saying anything about his heartbreak until one day after Gwen had thrown him off and Arthur had looked at him and thought oh, oh I’m an idiot, there you are, you’ve been here the whole time, and kissed him. Merlin, who dresses Arthur and helps him bathe and advises him and is his shadow, Merlin who he told nothing of the duel because he didn’t want Merlin there because Mordred hates Merlin, really, not Arthur, Arthur’s just a way to get to Merlin, and he will never let Mordred anywhere near the man he loves—

“You’re babbling, I hope you know that, you prat,” Merlin says, sniffling. He kisses Arthur’s knuckles. “Gaius?”

“It’s out, don’t worry,” Gaius says. Gaius, yes, they would take him to Gaius to heal him. “But now we shall have to wait for the fever to break.”

Merlin’s cool hand is back on his forehead. Arthur’s eyes flutter open—when did he close them—and he sees Merlin bending over him, Merlin’s perfect face, handsome and too thin and pale, so pale.

“You should have shot him,” Merlin whispers, anger and fear warring for dominance in his voice. “Arthur. You’re the better shot, you know it. If you’d shot him that would have ended it.”

“Would it?” Arthur’s not sure where he’s finding the strength for these words, not when he’s so tired and in so much pain. “It’s not victory I seek, it is peace. Peace between our houses, our families.”

Merlin gives a little choked noise and it takes Arthur a second to realize that he’s laughing. “Of course,” he murmurs. “Of course you would want that. Impossible man.”

“I’m going to give him something to help him sleep,” Gaius says.

Arthur doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to keep holding Merlin’s hand, he wants to look into Merlin’s face, Merlin is the only thing in this world that doesn’t hurt…

His distress must show on his face, because Merlin gently pushes his hair back out of his eyes. “It’s all right,” he promises. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

Arthur wants to ask, _promise_ , like he’s a child, but when his mouth opens no sound can come out. Gaius tips a glass to his lips and Arthur swallows reflexively.

The burning fades, the pain finally, finally fades, and the last thing he feels is Merlin’s lips at his forehead before sleep claims him.

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as this takes place historically for our audience but in the future from the canon time period, does this make this piece simultaneously future and historical? *thoughtful face*
> 
> Also I apologize for the absolutely horrible run-on sentences in this.


End file.
